Trivial Pursuits
by sasha1600
Summary: Tony's knowledge of useless trivia turns out to be useful after all.  Warning:  spanking of adult.  Don't like?  Don't read!
1. Chapter 1

**Trivial Pursuits**

**Summary: **Tony's knowledge of useless trivia turns out to be useful after all. **Warning:** spanking of adult. Don't like? Don't read!

**Disclaimer:** I don't own them, I just play with them.

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This is part of my 'Lessons' universe and builds on a larger plot arc. It should make sense on its own, though.

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**Warning: this story contains the disciplinary spanking of an adult. If you have a problem with that, click on that 'back' button now. You've been warned.**

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'Tony, this really isn't a good idea...' Tim warned nervously. He wasn't surprised that his partner ignored him and continued awkwardly sifting one-handed through the underbrush that they were supposed to be searching, his other hand holding his phone against his ear. A few faint strains of elevator music could be heard coming from the device, telling Tim that Tony was still on hold. 'Tony,' he began again.

'Tim, would you relax? What can happen?'

'Gibbs could find out! That's what could happen! We're supposed to be looking for evidence that...'

'And we _are_ looking...'

'No, _I'm_ looking for evidence that could lead us to the kidnappers before their deadline. And you... you... you're trying to get through to a radio station quiz thing! And...'

'And I'm looking for evidence at the same time! I'm multi-tasking! What's the big deal? It's not like I can't listen to muzak _and_ look for footprints...'

'But...'

'But nothing, Probie. Geez. You'd think... oh! Yes! Hello!'

Tim's eyes widened at the realisation that Tony had actually gotten through to the people running the quiz. This was sooo not good...


	2. Chapter 2

Gibbs glanced up at the gathering clouds and frowned. A storm definitely wouldn't make their jobs easier, and could well destroy vital evidence before they found it. The brisk wind was bad enough... but at least there was a chance that it would move the clouds along and spare them from having to deal with rain, too. Deciding that a weather report might be helpful, he switched on the radio and found a station that wasn't just static, and hoped that it would take a break from whatever nonsense it was currently spewing to provide news and weather updates on the hour. In three minutes, he noted, grimly focusing on the road in front of him and trying to tune out the overly cheerful talk show banter.

'Alright, we have time for one more contestant. Caller, you're on the air with Randy Coleson. Who am I talking to?'

'Oh! Yes! Hello! This is Tony...'

Gibbs slammed on the brakes, and stared at the radio in shock. That sounded like...

'And where are you calling from, Tony?'

'Honestly, Randy, I have no idea. See, I'm working right now, and I'm in the middle of nowhere, somewhere...'

'You're working, and you don't know where you are?'

'It's... uh... complicated.'

'Ok. So, Tony-from-somewhere-unknown, are you ready to try to win a pair of tickets to tonight's Nationals game?'

'Absolutely, Randy.'

'Ok, you know how this works. If you get the first question right, you win a keychain, and I'll ask you if you want to continue. If you decide to go on to the second question, and you get it wrong, you lose the keychain. If you get it right...'

Gibbs eased his foot off the brake, not really listening to Randy's recital of the contest rules.

He already had his own 'prize' in mind for his senior field agent.


	3. Chapter 3

'Oh, I'm going for it, Randy!' Tony said, confidently. He'd already won a keychain, a pen, a tote bag, and an umbrella, all emblazoned with the radio station's logo, and none of which he had any interest in. There was no way he was giving up without trying to get his hands on those baseball tickets.

'Ok. For two tickets to tonight's game... what do you call the curved, double-handled sword used by Klingons in Star Trek?'

Tony groaned. He could quote an astonishing variety of movies and TV shows, verbatim. But Star Trek? Not his thing. Which meant he was going to have to...

'Hey, Probie!' he called to Tim, who was rummaging through a nearby trash can and pointedly ignoring him. 'Tim! That Klingon sword thing! What's it called?'

'Twenty seconds, Tony...'

'Probie! C'mon, man...'

Tim looked up, looking decidedly unimpressed.

'Tim...'

To his relief, Tim sighed, rolled his eyes, and answered his question.

'It's a bat'leth, Tony. Now, can you please get back to...'

'Batt-lith!' Tony repeated into his phone, trying to copy Tim's pronunciation of the weird alien sword thing.

'That's right! Congratulations, Tony! We have to go to Miranda for news and weather now, but I'm going to pass you over to someone who will let you know where to pick up your tickets...'


	4. Chapter 4

Tony had a spring in his step as he followed Tim out of the elevator. He'd been a little concerned that he wouldn't be able to use his hard-earned baseball tickets if the case wasn't wrapped up. But, with the kidnapper behind bars and the major's daughter safe at home, there was no reason for Gibbs to make them work late. They didn't even have the usual volume of post-case paperwork, since it had been the FBI who cracked the case. That wouldn't normally be a good thing, but since they'd had a six-case and nearly two-week lead before the guy targeted a Marine dependent, it was no great surprise that the Behavioral Analysis Unit had figured it out before NCIS. And since Fornell couldn't take credit for it, there was no reason for Gibbs to be cranky. _Definitely a good day_, he thought.

His optimism evaporated as soon as his boss caught sight of the returning agents.

'What the hell were you thinking, DiNozzo?' Gibbs bellowed. Every head in the room turned to look, then quickly looked somewhere, anywhere, else.

'Uh... Boss?'

'Goofing around when you're supposed to be looking for a missing child? Do I really need to _tell_ you how much trouble you're in right now?'

Tony's mouth dropped open. _How the hell did he _know? He didn't dare actually ask that question when his boss was so obviously furious with him, but he didn't have to, because Gibbs answered it without the prompting, making him wonder if the older man was actually able to read his mind.

'Don't look so surprised, Tony. You were on the damn radio! It's not like you were trying to _hide_ the fact that you were screwing around on my time!'

_Since when does Gibbs listen to the radio?_

'And I assume that alien sword thing was your contribution to this little adventure, huh, Elf Lord?'

Tony could see the blood drain from Tim's face at Gibbs's accusation.

'McGee tried to talk me out of it, Boss. He was working the whole time – he was even up to his elbows in a trash can looking for evidence when I made him give me that answer. You can't blame him...'

Tony wasn't sure what made him speak up. Tim was perfectly capable of making his own case for why he shouldn't be blamed for Tony's actions. But, for whatever reason, it seemed important that he try to convince Gibbs not to punish his partner.

Tim also seemed to find his outburst surprising, turning towards him with wide eyes.

'Is that true, McGee?'

Tim nodded silently, still impossibly pale.

'Ok,' Gibbs sighed. 'Come here.'

Tony watched in horror as Tim took a nervous step towards their boss. McGee clearly expected to be punished, but he didn't hesitate about obeying the quiet order. _Gibbs wasn't going to spank him _here_, was he? He wasn't going to make him watch..._ 'Boss, c'mon, you can't...' he protested frantically.

'OW!'

Tony's pleas were cut off by Tim's squawk of pain as Gibbs's palm made contact with the back of his head.

'Boss? What...'

'Next time, Tim, don't let him talk you into humouring him.'

Tim nodded vigorously, not saying anything. He seemed confused by the apparent indication that he wasn't going to be spanked... almost unsure of himself.

Before Tony had a chance to figure out what was going on with his probie, he found himself once more the focus of Gibbs's attention.

'Do you want your punishment now or after the game?'

'Uh... whuh?'

Tony blinked at Gibbs, trying to catch up with the conversation. _Was Gibbs actually giving him a choice about when he wanted to be spanked? And was letting him go to the game?_ Gibbs had never actually grounded him like a delinquent teenager, but, under the circumstances, he'd expected his boss to find something to keep him busy well into the evening. And Gibbs had never given him the option of postponing a spanking. He'd made him wait, occasionally... to the end of a case, or until they got back to the office. But he'd never left the decision up to him.

'Don't get used to it,' Gibbs told him, smirking slightly. 'You did good, just now, the way you defended Tim. I figure standing up for your partner like that is good for you getting to sit comfortably at the game tonight. Unless you'd rather not wait.'

'But...'

'Oh, don't worry. You still have one hell of a spanking coming to you for that stunt you pulled.'

Tony didn't find that to be a comforting thought.

'And you're still letting me go...'

'You stuck him with all the work while you were trying to win those tickets. I think you owe Tim at least that much.' Gibbs paused and fixed Tony with a hard look before continuing, 'You _were_ planning on taking him with you, weren't you?'

Tony shuffled his feet self-consciously, not meeting Gibbs's eyes, suddenly worried about how his plan would sound.

'Well, actually, Boss...' he began hesitantly.

Gibbs raised one eyebrow, and Tim looked stricken. Tony started talking faster.

'When I picked up the tickets, they told me that since none of the other contestants had won the second pair they had available, I could have the four tickets rather than just two. So I thought we could... I mean, the three of us, and Abby...'


	5. Chapter 5

Abby settled back into her seat, ignoring the strange looks she was getting from the people around them. She always jumped up and down and cheered when somebody scored a run. The operative word being _anybody_. Including the visiting team. She took her oversized soda back from Tim, who had seized it to stop her from shaking it all over everyone nearby while she bounced, and slurped happily.

This was a great idea.

Even Gibbs seemed to be enjoying himself, and had joined in on the crowd's vocal criticism of the umpire's last call.

And, when Gibbs and Tony had taken their turn to fetch more snacks from the concession stand, she'd been able to talk Tim out of the mood he'd been in. Between still being annoyed about Tony leaving him to do most of the work, being worried about whether Gibbs would hold him responsible for keeping Tony out of trouble in the future, and how exactly he was supposed to stop Tony from doing something stupid without getting them both in bigger trouble for fighting, and being confused by Tony coming to his defence, the poor guy had worked himself into quite a state. But, a hard punch to the shoulder, a reminder that Gibbs was a fair man who only _claimed_ to be a bastard, and a pointed question about whether he'd let Sarah take the blame for something he'd done, had seemed to take care of it. Now, he was watching the game with obviously excitement, and had even quietly pointed out to Gibbs that Tony's time on the phone hadn't really been that much longer than Agent Ozawa's cigarette breaks, one time when a translator had been temporarily added to the team.

Abby leaned forward and looked down the row towards Tony and found him shifting awkwardly in his seat. She frowned slightly, wishing there was a way to cheer him up. She knew he'd decided to wait until after the game to be spanked, wanting to be able to sit comfortably and enjoy his hard-won prize. But, obviously, the knowledge of what was going to happen to him later was weighing heavily on his mind and he wasn't really able to relax. _He should have just gotten it over with_, she thought, jumping to her feet as the ball sailed into the crowd.


	6. Chapter 6

Tony dejectedly followed Gibbs into the house. He'd been mentally kicking himself for hours. It had been a good game, but he hadn't been able to stop his mind from wandering every few minutes, worrying about the spanking he knew he had coming as soon as the game was over.

It was silly, he knew. Gibbs had spanked him more often than he could count, and he knew he could handle it. There was no good reason for him to be this nervous.

Sighing deeply, he shrugged off his jacket and hung it from a peg near the door and toed off his shoes. Keeping his eyes downcast, he let Gibbs steer him into the living room.

'Ok, Tony, you want to tell me what that was about?'

Tony looked up in surprise.

'What do you mean, Boss?'

'You, screwing around like that. That's not like you.'

'Oh, come on, Boss! You know me! That's what I _do_! I...'

'Yeah, Tony. I do know you. You screw around, when it doesn't matter. Not when we're racing the clock to save a little girl's life. So, I'll ask you again... what's going on with you?'

'I... uh...'

'Because there are better ways to get my attention, if that's what you're looking for.'

'Boss? You think I _wanted_ to be spanked?'

'I think you wanted to make sure I still care enough _to_ spank you.'

'Why? Boss, I...'

'I don't know, Tony. You tell me. What's got you feeling so insecure?'

'I'm not... uh...'

'You don't have anything to prove with me, Tony, and you can stop testing me any time you like. I am not giving up on you. Nothing you do is going to make me stop caring about you. Acting out isn't going to make me push you away; all it's going to do, is get you a sore ass.'

'I... I know that, Boss.'

'Well, you might want to start acting like you believe it, Tony... unless you don't plan on being able to sit down any time soon.'

'Uh... about that. I don't suppose...'

'No.'

Tony sighed dramatically.

'Come on,' Gibbs told him firmly. 'You don't really want me to let you off, anyway.'

'Yeah, I really do!'

'Well, I'm not going to let you start thinking I don't care.'

'Boss, I promise I won't...'

Gibbs cut off his assurance that he wouldn't feel neglected if they skipped the spanking this time with a brusque nod of his head in the direction of the battered sofa in the middle of the room.

'Bend over the couch.'

Tony shuffled towards it with an exaggerated pout and leaned over the back, resting his head on the seat and fisting his hands around the edge of the cushion. He heard Gibbs open and shut a closet door, and glanced over his shoulder to try to see what he was going to be spanked with.

To his surprise, he saw Gibbs carrying a small wooden paddle. Pushing himself upright again, he turned, wide-eyed, towards his boss.

'Where did _that_ come from?

'Made it,' Gibbs replied with a shrug and a roll of his eyes that suggested that he thought the answer was obvious.

'You made another paddle? But... why... you...'

'Your paddle is at the office. Figured I needed one here, too, and I didn't think you wanted to make another one yourself...'

'But... but...' Tony sputtered, trying to get his head around the idea that Gibbs had actually used some of his limited spare time to make a paddle so he could spank him more easily in his living room. And, he was no expert, but it certainly looked like he'd done a careful job – this was no rough, quickly-made make-shift paddle. It was symmetrical, smooth, and finished with some shiny polish. It certainly looked like Gibbs had put some time and effort into making the thing.

'The cutting board worked ok, but the handle was awkward. So...'

'I can't believe you thought...'

'...I made a paddle to keep here.'

'You really thought you needed one for work and one for home? Boss, I know I'm...'

'Hey. Relax. It's just that it's not always at the office, with you, anymore. Because you're not just someone I work with...'

'So, I'm twice as much trouble, now, and you need two...'

'Well, I've been thinking I should probably make one for the car, too.'

'What? Boss, that's not funny!'

'You know, Tony, my father always kept a couple of paddles at the store...'

'A couple?'

'Yeah.'

Tony raised an inquiring eyebrow, certain there was more to the story, and hoping that Gibbs would share it with him. He wasn't disappointed.

'There was an old wood stove in the back room. And... well... One day I got to the store after school. I'd been paddled for getting into a fight, and I had a note for my dad to sign about it. And he had a rule...'

'When you got spanked at school, you got spanked again at home?'

'Yeah. Anyway, he was helping a customer when I got there, so I went straight to the back room, like I always did, to leave my books and stuff. And the stove needed another log, and the paddle was right there, hanging on the wall near the door, and...'

'And you threw in the paddle rather than a log?'

'Yeah. And that's how I found out that Dad had a _second_ paddle...'

Tony couldn't help himself. He burst out laughing, imagining the scene.

'You must have been one hell of a kid to raise...'

'Why do you think I know how to deal with _you_ so well?' Gibbs asked with a smirk. 'Give me your phone.'

Tony blinked at the apparent non sequitur.

'Why?'

Gibbs merely raised one eyebrow and held out his hand expectantly. Tony fished his phone out of his pocket and dropped it onto the outstretched hand. To his surprise, Gibbs flipped it on and with unexpected efficiency pressed a few buttons, bringing up the call log.

'Ok. You spent 23 minutes on the phone.'

'Uh... I guess. That sounds about... why?'

'So, 23 seems like a good number...'

'You've got to be kidding!' Tony asked, horrified. If Gibbs really meant what he thought he did, that would be almost twice as much as he normally got. He knew that Gibbs wouldn't hand out more than he could take, but he was still a little freaked out by the prospect of nearly two dozen swats with the new paddle.

'Come on, son...'

A firm hand in the middle of his back steered him back into position over the back of the couch. A moment later, the paddle landed solidly on his ass, making him yelp. Before he was able to catch his breath, it landed again. And again. And again. Gibbs was alternating strokes, targeting only one side of his ass at a time, and Tony dimly realised that the cumulative effect wouldn't be any worse than his usual dozen swats. But any gratitude he felt for that was overshadowed by the blaze of pain he felt each time the paddle echoed against his upturned backside. It wasn't long before he was sobbing, his breath catching in his throat. The strokes weren't unduly harsh, but the pain built quickly as Gibbs aimed swat after swat at the sensitive lower curve of his ass, where he would feel it the most when he sat down. _Which might be never again_, he thought frantically.

Finally it was over. Gibbs let him stay in place, gasping for air and trying to control the tears that flowed freely. The solid hand that had been holding him down mere moments before started rubbing his back soothingly. It was only when he'd finally calmed down that Gibbs pulled him to his feet, hugged him briefly, and steered him towards the stairs and the spare bedroom. Tony had stayed there before, usually under protest and usually after he'd been injured and Ducky had insisted that he not be left alone. This time, he went quietly, too wary of Gibbs's response to put up a fight about it, and secretly pleased to be thought worthy of overnight supervision.

'Next time, let's try to leave the excitement on the ball field, ok, son?'

Tony blinked at the quiet words, turning away from the doorway he was about to step through just in time to see Gibbs disappearing into his own bedroom. _Next time_?


End file.
